


If I Save You

by AvianSolaris, Ravenmist4



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Lysiclaude paired ending, Marriage Proposal, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvianSolaris/pseuds/AvianSolaris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenmist4/pseuds/Ravenmist4
Summary: “There’s always an alternative method or path one can cross, even if it doesn’t seem that way. In this world of infinite possibilities... where an outsider can change the course of history—and within your fingertips is the very power to destroy a man— there has to be a way to help you. And, if I were to cure you, your reservations regarding marriage would be lifted, correct?”“In a world of infinite possibilities, there are still very real limitations to what one can do to solve an impossible situation,” There was little bite to her comeback, only the sad acknowledgement of his obvious naivete. If Fodlan’s most esteemed Crest scholars gained nothing after over half a decade worth of analysis on both her and her lethal, dual inhabitants; no one could.Apparently, Claude intended to change that.
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

When she first heard the scuffling outside, Lysithea had expected some kind of bear or coyote— maybe even an incredibly large, incredibly angry raccoon. It wouldn’t have been the first time creatures had wandered to their front steps in search of food or warmth, and it was no surprise considering the fact that their new home was bordered by a lively, forested thicket. Perhaps the potential ‘raccoon’ was just trying to escape from the sheets of rain underneath the front porch’s overhang, Lysithea thought. That is, until she swore she heard the faint sound of knocking.

That… did not sound like an animal.

Hurryingly, Lysithea slipped out of bed to investigate, curiosity pricking at her skin and egging her on. The knocking seemed to grow more and more insistent. Throwing on one of her thicker shawls, Lysithea picked up her pace as she ventured downstairs, towards the front entrance. Hopefully the noise hadn’t woken up her parents; they moved out here so they could enjoy their retirement in peace, and Lysithea was in full agreement that they deserved every ounce of rest and relaxation they received. The sooner she dealt with and dismissed whoever was at their door, the sooner she could return to her room. After all, it was most likely a vagabond or a disoriented merchant— she’d just give them directions and they’d be on their way. Simple.

  
Gingerly unlocking the door, Lysithea pushed away any lingering apprehension as she peeked through the small gap of an opening.

“...Hello?”

It did not turn out to be simple. Not by any means.

A man, dressed in heavy beige garbs and dotted with rain, stood on the opposite side of her doorstep. He took one glance at her before immediately falling to a bent knee. Lysithea began to make out the finer details of his face as he kneeled, and began to blanch as recognition violently washed over her. The dark hair, sharp chin, and crooked smirk. Undeniably, It was Claude von Reigan, her old classmate and former leader of the Alliance. 

The two of them had been exchanging letters semi-regularly since the war ended, and yet he somehow forgot to mention he was dragging himself from Almyra, through Fodlan’s Throat, and then across the old Alliance territories— all to visit her without warning? And now, he was… He was..

Proposing.

Expression twisting into one of dawning horror, Lysithea swallowed hard as she felt her mind begin to reel. She could see his mouth moving, but hardly registered the words; everything was drowned out between the heavy rain outside and her battering heartbeat. 

The boy she had felt so strongly for since the age of 15 had shown up at her parent’s cabin in the middle of the night to _propose_. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for someone like her. This hadn’t been a part of her plan.

“I can’t. Claude, get up— I can’t do this. Please, get off the ground _right now_.” 

Her voice cracked, displaying weakness behind the order. Authority often laced every sentence she uttered, her words bearing a confidence like those of a commander who helped organize countless battalions in times of war. However, now she was reduced to simply begging, having to support herself on the door frame as her body began to quiver fiercely under the weight of her tumultuous emotions. 

Exhaling shakily, Lysithea attempted to steel herself before opening the rest of the door completely. 

“Come inside. We… need to talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting and revising this story to include Claude's POV, written by a dear friend of mine ! <3

Should he be doing this?

It was a risky gambit, coming all this way just to propose when he had never revealed any interest in her before and wasn’t entirely sure of her feelings towards him. But why would she say no? It would be an honour beyond anything else.. being selected as the next Queen of Almyra- surely even if she didn’t love him, the title would appeal to her... not for the power of the position, but for all the good it would allow her to do. Her studies would be more than useful in such a position. He recognized that.. and surely she would too.

Of course- that was assuming he misread her. He knew what a crush looked like and he could see the signs when he teased her- or even merely when he happened to be near.. in situations where she wasn’t absorbed by her studies and the like. He hoped those feelings still existed. It was difficult to tell that sort of thing through letter, but she was worth the risk, however minuscule he felt that was. Aside from that, there was no  alternative. He was here to convince her even in the event she said no. Who else could possibly compare to Lysithea? Not only did he adore her company, her intelligence rivalled his own and not even a shadow of a doubt existed to say that she wouldn’t be a good queen.

On the way to her home, he mumbled the speech he had wrote her over and over again. It had to be perfect. It just had to be.

_ ‘Lysithea, _

_ Once I looked to the stars for guidance and support. I was alone in the world but they always pulled me through the worst of times... when I met you, I felt a giddy joy far surpassing what I felt for the stars. You outshone them, and I was drawn to you like a flower curling to the rays of dawn. You helped me grow into the man I’ve become, and I understand that there is so much more you can teach me. You stolen my heart away and I don’t want it back. To put it simply.. _

_ I love and admire you, dearest Lysithea. Would you marry me and become my Queen?’ _

He continued to make revisions  all the way through each recital. Some parts felt much too cheesy after the tenth time around while other aspects needed a little more fluff. He hardly noticed anything else as he went. He was barely present through double checking the address with some of the common folk and only came back to himself when he was standing on her doorstep.

His hands shook with nerves, but he worked up the courage to make a fist and knock. As soon as the door opened and he recognized the white hair, his preparations drifted from his mind and he fell to a knee, holding out his ring as an offering to her.

“Lysithea, please marry me!”

If he wasn’t so elated to see her, he would have cringed at his words. All the careful mental scripting was ruined. His moment was gone, but he couldn’t care right then. It retained its perfection because she was right there.

And then she was telling him to get up, and he was confused. He flashed a half grin, barely masking the befuddlement. This wasn’t a no, was it?

“I messed it up, didn’t I? I can try again and I’ll do much better this time.”

But she invited him inside to talk, and the truth he hadn’t wanted to consider had to be accepted. It was a rejection. But that was fine still, right? He could convince her. This had always been a possibility in the back of his mind.

“Come inside. We… need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about, Lys? You care for me, don’t you? And you’d be the best choice to rule Almyra with me. With a Queen like you in charge- well.. you’d do such a great job that my people.. _our_ people wouldn’t be able to complain. There will be so much change and they’ll come to love you for all the good you do.. maybe almost as much as I love you. Or.. is there someone else?”

That was a possibility he hadn’t even considered up until that moment. Her letters hadn’t mentioned anyone else, but perhaps that wasn’t a topic she would approach with him. And how horrible it would be to discover that he was too late... he regretted not acting sooner. He should have told  her his intentions the moment he figured them out! And then they wouldn’t be in this mess. Potentially they could have already been married... but- no.. the timing hadn’t been right. And he couldn’t convince himself of something that she hadn’t even confessed yet. He would have to listen. _  
_


	3. Chapter 3

It was clear Claude was, at the very least, bemused. Likely taken aback by her less-than-subtle reaction. However, he showed no signs of being deterred. Typical of him.

Stepping aside, Lysithea watched wearily as he entered. Honestly, what was he expecting, showing up out of the blue to propose? It was just… ridiculous, and awfully assumptive. Yet, Lysithea couldn’t bring herself to be resentful towards Claude. The image of him on bent knee, with a hopeful gaze and a glittering, emerald ring, continued to resurface minutes after he had walked inside. It was, without a doubt, unwillingly burnt into her consciousness. 

“..You didn’t ‘mess up.’” She half-heartedly reassured, electing to ignore the latter half of his suggestion. In another universe, with different circumstances, the gesture would’ve been incredibly romantic.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Quietly as she was able, Lysithea led him to the dining table; it wasn’t exactly a dining area, considering how small the cabin’s margins were, but it was somewhere to sit him down nonetheless. And quite frankly, _she_ needed to sit down in preparation of what she’d soon have to disclose to him. 

Whilst attempting to steel her nerves, Lysithea could scarcely ignore the pinprick of guilt nestled within the back of her mind, followed by shards of contrite hope that he’d be able to accept the news without too many questions. Her demise stepped closer each and every passing day; that’s all he had to know. Whether she had been amazingly lucky for Claude to have been interested in her in the first place, or he was amazingly unlucky, she didn’t know. It was probably the latter. He had somehow managed to pick the only girl from Garreg Mach who had less than 5 years left to live. 

She had never willingly informed the Golden Deer of her condition. Not even the faculty knew of her duel-crests when she was admitted into the academy. It had seemed necessary at the time, but Lysithea was no longer as narrow-minded as before— just because she had grown accustomed to her inevitable lifespan didn’t mean others would accept it so easily. How would her classmates react if they had known? Lysithea knew the unexplained disappearance on her behalf would hurt them, even after all the years apart. They had all been so close before going their respective ways. Would they resent her for it?

Would _he_? 

After all, he came here expecting a fiancee, not a future funeral invitation. 

Pulling a chair for them both, Lysithea sat herself down, deciding that the best course of action would be to let him speak before continuing. Claude, seeming to understand the invitation, immediately began to articulate the reasons behind his unexpected proposal.

A Queen… Lysithea could hardly imagine herself in such a position. She was much too brash, too headstrong, and frankly, too emotional. Before its dissolution, Lysithea was scarcely able to stomach the politics House Ordelia attended to. The cruelty within the former governing bodies was unfathomable, not to mention the skewed power dynamic outside of them. Hrym, and Ordelia, were both prime examples of such ruthlessness. Alongside herself, and the crests that resided within her. 

Perhaps it was Claude’s intention to change that. Starting with helping their former Professor take the mantle for Fodlan, before leaving to reform his own place of birth. Lysithea had only ever heard Claude talk about his dreams in passing, but even from those brief moments she could tell he was truly invested in the bright future he envisioned for all.

Suddenly, at the ledge of his explanation, his eyes darkened with a sense of realization. 

“...Is there someone else?” 

Lysithea stared back, nonplussed. “No, that’s not..”

Unsure of herself, Lysithea had not the slightest clue how to convey the similar affections she harbored for him. Of _course_ there was no one else. How could there be? While her feelings for him started young and puerile (nothing more than a mere flutter in her chest when she became the focus of his teasing or praise), they morphed into something more during the war. By the time they reunited, they had aged lifetimes in the span of 5 years. Both fully-grown, and burdened with the strife of duties laid upon shoulders far too young to carry. Claude worked himself tirelessly, a true juxtaposition against his carefree days as a teenager. He had bolstered the Alliance with needles and string, maintaining a united front despite the chaos within. Not unlike that stupid, shotty facade of his— ceaselessly hiding his struggles and concerns under a fragile mask, and an easy smile. 

Lysithea was always firm in her first impression of others. He had seemed easy to grasp and predictable at first glance. In truth, he was more convoluted than she ever would have guessed. His true feelings and past were elusive at best, nearly-intangible at worst. Even now, she knew _so little_ about him. She hadn’t even the slightest clue her feelings were requited.

And yet, despite all of that, she couldn’t control the inordinate giddiness she felt when the first of his letters arrived at her doorstep. Nor could she control the very same feeling in her chest as she read his words, fluttering even stronger than before.

While their short reunion would undoubtedly end in hurt and rejection, she wanted it to be an honest one. She couldn’t lie to him; not about her feelings. Especially if this was likely the last time she would ever see him face-to-face again.

“There’s nobody else. But, I’ll still have to decline your offer... I apologize. ” The tone was firm, resolute. Her eyes quickly averted from his face, instead drifting to her hands, which lay quivering together in her lap. A small, selfish act in hope that she’d save herself from the ache of his expression. “Claude, the reason I cannot marry is because I don’t have much time left to live. I’m terminal. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I accepted your proposal.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Lysithea said there was no one else, Claude had opened his mouth to ask what reason she could possibly have to deny him, but she was already speaking before he had a chance, and his eyes darkened as the weight of her reason settled upon him. It was the answer furthest from the possible reasons of a rejection, and yet it was the only one that made sense- because he had already known she would accept under any other circumstances. Even if she considered the role of Queenship to be daunting, Lysithea was never the sort to shy away from a challenge. She was always pushing herself to her limits and striving for perfection.. it was part of what would have made her such an amazing queen.

And she- from Fòdlan- a perfect representation of someone who was not a coward and could never be called one by anyone who truly knew her. To achieve his goal of breaking down the barriers between their respective nations, he could think of no one better.

But most importantly, he loved her. And he was certain that she loved him. He had read it through the letters they exchanged just as he read it through her continued tolerance of his presence during the war and academy days. She even seemed to enjoy his company some days, and this conversation had done nothing to dissuade him of that. And her rejection had come out of consideration for him...

His eyes dropped away from her face, and he tapped his fingers against his knee, silence settling over him as he tried to think of a solution. Because he couldn’t go home empty handed. She was his choice, and superficially he tried gauging her value as his wife over the value of his kingdom, but in his heart he already knew which he held more dear. His mind protested with the many reasons she was not a viable option, but he couldn’t hear them over the call of his heart. He loved Lysithea von Ordelia. And no matter the cost, he was determined to win her hand.

“Right, terminal.” He echoed. The words should have sounded hollow and hopeless, but he hadn’t given up yet. He wasn’t sure he knew how to give up, especially not when it came to Lysithea. No matter how many times she yelled at him to leave her alone, no matter how many rejections he faced at her hand, this would not be the end of it. He wouldn’t allow it.

“So we cure you. There _has_ to be a way, right? In this world of infinite possibilities... where an outsider can change the course of history- and within your very fingertips is the power to destroy a man- there has to be a way to help you. If I were to cure you, your reservations regarding marriage would be lifted, correct? So, tell me Lys, what’s causing you to die?”

He reached out and took her hand, eyes earnestly searching her face for an answer.

All the trials in his life had led him to this point. He understood that by devoting time to saving her meant releasing the throne and any chance for it in the future. It could mean that everything else he had worked for would be meaningless, but a life without Lysithea made his heart sink with dread. Every subsequent look at her sent his heart flying, and he knew he was making the right choice. Maybe it wasn’t in the best interests of Fòdlan and Almyra, but he needed to make some decisions that benefitted him. Besides, there were others who would rise to fill his place, and he was certain they would do well- though it would never be perfect to his vision- he had already contributed greatly to a new course.

The instability caused as a result of his taking the throne still lingered, so now was the time to install a new leader. They would have time to cement their rule- unless he found a cure right away, but that wasn’t a guarantee, and he’d have to prepare for the worst. The worst like- failing.. it was always possible- but to abandon Lysithea to her fate was not an option. He would reject the possibility of failure until he failed, as was the way he had learned to live life. But first.. he needed a place to start from.


	5. Chapter 5

Quiet settled uncomfortably across the dining table. Claude, the Master Tactician, known for his sharp tongue and even sharper wit, was silent.

Lysithea felt her throat go dry, lifting her head to scan his face for any readable expression. Was he angry? Upset? She couldn’t tell. As always, his calculated expression betrayed nothing. 

Hanging onto each of his actions, counting the breaths between; he finally responded, and the numbness in her chest began to morph into a sinking feeling. 

“Right, terminal.” He paused. “So we cure you. There has to be a way, right? In this world of infinite possibilities... where an outsider can change the course of history, and within your very fingertips is the power to destroy a man-- there has to be a way to help you. If I were to cure you, your reservations regarding marriage would be lifted, correct?”

Optimism. Of  _ course _ he was optimistic in the most bleak of situations. She was beginning to wonder if he knew the definition of ‘terminal’. Incurable. Inoperable. The end.

Of course, a level of denial in an increasingly dire situation was to be expected— but this wasn’t _just_ a dire situation. Lysithea had known of her sealed fate from the very moment the dark pigment of her hair had begun to fade, seeping into its current pale, ghostly alabaster. Once the mages bid her family farewell with nothing but an expiration date on their sole-surviving daughter, it was obvious there was little she could do to escape the inevitable. Death’s gnarled hands had curled above the nape, digits tightening to loom over her vulnerable throat, the distance closing day by day. Unceasing, unable to be pried off, no matter how desperate the attempt.

Not like she hadn’t tried. 

A pair of gloved hands grasped onto her own, his warmth transferring to cold, lithe fingers. The instantaneous comfort his small action bought, left her feeling doubly as hollow in its wake. His stare bore holes through her.

“In a world of infinite possibilities, there are still very real limitations to what one can do to solve an impossible situation,” There was little bite to her comeback, only the sad acknowledgement of his obvious naivete. If Fodlan’s most esteemed Crest scholars (whom Claude hardly held a candle to in regards to specialized, Crest-related research) gained nothing after over half a decade worth of analysis on both her and her lethal, dual inhabitants; no one could.

“So, tell me Lys, what’s causing you to die?” 

He was ignoring the weight of her words, clearly. She was going to add ‘impossible’ to the list of words he clearly didn’t know the meaning of, alongside ‘terminal’ and ‘hopeless’. 

“Informing you would be pointless.”

She couldn’t stand his countenance. Bearing into her, loving and sanguine, despite it all. _So_ _meone_ in this situation had to stay strong, and realistic, lest the two of them broke under the weight of it all. It was clear now who that role fell to.

“Marriage aside, Claude; It’s simply not feasible. Others have already tried to research my condition, to cure me... it has led to nothing except frustration, dead ends, wasted time and effort.” 

Pulling her arm away, she pointed furiously at his chest.

“You _cannot_ get your hopes up, do you understand me?” Barking the words out, praying that her barbed demeanor would be enough to ward the _glint_ shining in his eyes. She recognized his expression— the very same one he wore when he explained his plans for the united future of Fodlan and Almyra at the end of the war. A sign of dogged dedication. How could she possibly have fallen for someone so charming yet so foolhardy?!


	6. Chapter 6

_"In a world of infinite possibilities, there are still very real limitations to what one can do to solve an impossible situation."_

This was something he had always been painfully aware of. It nipped at his heels with every step he advanced, whispered cynicism into his ear if he paused too long, but dreams were not taken from the hand of the corporeal, and if he had stopped to listen, he would never have claimed the Almyran throne, nor started those crucial steps to bringing unity between his peoples. Better than anyone, he knew she was wrong, but the words stung. She was to be his future, and yet the words of the past echoed on her lips. It was that more than anything that stirred doubt.

_"Informing you would be pointless."_

Ouch, she had no faith in him. He carefully considered their interactions, looking for a sign in his memories that would have led to this moment, or some other explanation that would help him understand. As she continued speaking, the solidarity of understanding began to develop, as his view of her reshaped itself. She had known she was going to die young, and she had lived with that secret, devoted her life to her studies, determined to not waste a second. In their early years, a hundred scattered moments, clipped comments and snide remarks formed a new narrative. He'd been wasting the precious time she had left. His intentions had been pure, and he knew he would do it all again, for those moments and the ones that came later were among those he held most dear, but there felt like a strong emphasis on the times she had not been trying to actively avoid him, or send him away. Some part of her had allowed him to use a fraction of the little time she had remaining- and he knew it was more than just giving up on shooing a fly away. He had been under the impression that she enjoyed his company, perhaps as much as he enjoyed hers-- which was why he had come all the way for her in the first place.

Familiar warmth took ahold of his heart. He was hardly listening to her, but his attention was fully captured when she pulled her arm away.

 _"You cannot get your hopes up!_ "

But it was far too late for that. Or-- maybe it wasn't hope he felt. He had to admit, the situation looked bleak, but he could not give up on her. He had always thought his first love was his home, and the objective he held so close to his heart, but none of that seemed important while the article of his affections stood before him, even as she tried to discourage him.

"Every moment we have is precious. I would spend them all with you if you'd have me. But I see, you won't agree while the race against time continues into the last segment. Others have tried to cure you? Great, you can give me what you know and I'll have something to work off of. They aren't me though. I've grown in renown for being a master tactician. I think differently, and before you go shutting me down, give me a chance. You matter to me more than anyone or anything has, and I will do all in my power to search for a way to save you. No matter what you say or do, I will keep returning until I find something that works or time runs out, and that's not going to change."

His eyes dropped to her hand as he spoke, and he felt a strong compulsion to take it again, as the intimacy of the touch reinforced the sincerity of his words, but he refrained out of respect for her. In the back of his mind, he considered all he had learned, and felt a bitter remorse for all the time he had lost-- where he could have been searching for a cure. It was entirely irrational, as there was no way he would have known and he had made a point not to pry into her personal affairs, but the feeling remained nonetheless, mingling with his happiness to be in her company again, the vestiges of shock, and a blooming determination to see his new goal through. Yet.. the question he had not even given voice to managed to slip out, betraying his hurt through an uncharacteristically meek tone

"Why didn't you tell me?" If she had-- would he have found a way? Would he have started chasing this cure for her? He liked to think that the answer was yes.


	7. Chapter 7

Why couldn’t he just _listen_?

Internally, there was a part of her that was capable of grasping his sentiments, or at least of acknowledging the fact there was once a time where she might have been able to empathize with them. Now, however, she knew better than to be swept up and carried away by something that would ultimately ruin them both. She was _terminal_ , and he was a _king_ now, for crying out loud! She might have admired his tenacity as a schoolgirl, but now it was comparable to nothing except a man, who should’ve never fallen for her in the first place, grasping at straws.

When she was young, Lysithea had a decently sized array of well-loved childrens’ toys and storybooks, all from the attempts of her parents trying desperately to make up for the time and life lost within the cobblestoned walls of the Ordelia manor’s basement. Of course, fairytales had been her favorite. Princesses, miracles, dragons, and curses; it was all fantasy and make-believe to her at the time, too young to comprehend the roots of the Sothis religion and too cynical to care. After all, she discarded those silly, childish things after applying to Garreg Mach, the sole survivor from her coming-of-age being her most treasured doll. Despite burning away the tangible, Lysithea had still carried the notions within her. 

Back when Lysithea allowed herself the occasional reprieve of letting her fantasies run rampant, she would let her mind wander during her late nights studying, or when sleep became elusive after waking from the throes of yet another nightmare, despite otherwise preaching that daydreams were useless and accomplished nothing. After all, who wouldn’t have wanted to fantasize of oracle frogs, magic powder, and interwoven destinies— _anything_ to feel the slightest twinge of delusional hope amongst her consistent, daily dread of the oncoming future?

She knew better now.

While she would’ve given anything for it to be true, Claude wasn’t the prince from storybooks. Lysithea couldn’t be cured with true love’s kiss, and no amount of hope could make it so. He wasn’t asking her to ‘give him a chance’, he was essentially throwing away the viable future he had built for himself— all for her sake.

_”You matter to me more than anyone or anything…”_

_”...No matter what you say or do.”_

If she was any other woman in that moment, those exact words would have made her heart soar with passion. Instead, it crumbled; her only verbal response being a feeble choke.

From all his achievements and glory, why was _she_ the one he’d gamble it all on? Lysithea knew her own worth as a prestigious mage and former child prodigy, but even that would fade soon enough, with her dark magic already becoming increasingly difficult to restrain as time wore on. The curtains were coming to a close on her own glory days, withering away alongside her pride; but Claude’s time in the sunlight was only just beginning. He had _finally_ achieved all that he had been working towards. Winning the war, rising in tremendous power in both countries, and if he desired to raise a family, it was obvious he had many sources he was able to pick and choose from.

Even if Lysithea somehow survived, there was no predicting how her body would continue to function. Could she bear children? If so, would she ever become healthy enough to do so? Even she couldn’t offer Claude that. Whether he saw it or not, betting on her was a losing play. Her worth and utility would dwindle rapidly as time went on, and she doubted that even a miracle cure could restore all the years that escaped her.

Claude, on the other hand, was brilliant; shining gold in so many more ways than one. He mattered to her, more than she’d ever be able to admit. All she desired was for him to be happy, to make the right choices that would benefit him. Yet, hearing him proclaim his adoration for her and their time spent together, it almost felt as though she was taking that chance at happiness away from him— as ludicrous as it sounded, knowing the odds.

“..Why didn’t you tell me?” He murmured.

Caught in a whirlwind of her own internal angst, Claude’s additional question only registered moments after. His face was lowered, but even then, the rawness of his tone was obvious. His speech, mere moments ago, had been laden with ardour and hope. His initial blind confidence was misleading, but perhaps there was a chance this was affecting him in all the ways she had initially worried about. His tone.. it was dejected, almost. In all her memories of him, she seldom saw him in such a state. She almost wished he was looking straight at her again, if only so she could attempt to decipher what went on behind those emerald eyes of his.

Hesitating to reply, Lysithea exhaled, fatigue dripping from her shoulders and neck, before solemnly answering.

“I had intended for my parents and I to find solace in solitude after Ordelia’s dissolution. The last thing I wanted was for my comrades to needlessly worry and fuss over me; it would’ve only given them grief, having to do nothing with negligible ways to help. I’ve seen firsthand what by-standing guilt can do to a person— my parents— and I found little compulsion to subject my friends to the same emotions as well... no matter how close we were. It was needless trouble, and.. I didn’t want to hurt you, or anyone, more than already necessary.”

Softly, her voice lowered into the shell of a whisper.

“..I thought it would be best for me to go quietly.”


	8. Chapter 8

Her words didn't make sense. Or-- more accurately-- he didn't _want_ them to make sense. The more weight and thought they bore, the less he could untangle them from the very ideals that governed his own actions. He knew what it meant to keep secrets, both to save those he cared about from bearing the burden of knowledge, and the pain it wrought when preemptively revealed. Was that not why he had held his own to his heart for so very long? Well.. those reasons and others besides, perhaps moreso in favor of protecting his own well-being, though that was something that had shifted the more he had grown to develop bonds with his classmates. He could not fault her for making choices that he too would have made, though to condemn her for such actions would have made it easier to bear. Perhaps it might have even given him a reason to walk away.

He would not walk away.

"I see.." His true thoughts locked behind simple words of affirmation, and his tone could not quite convey the depth of his understanding, no matter how badly he wanted it to. It was yet tainted with his dejection, and the slow acceptance of this sour reality.

His fingers ran along the grooves of the table, the mental relief of something new to focus on thwarted by the gloves, still-- eyes watched the path they tracked and he imagined how it would feel in lieu of confronting the situation. That had never been his style, but there was only so much stalling one could do. And Byleth was not going to magically show up to rewrite this story, despite his foolish hope to the contrary. He snorted at the thought, and it was enough renew his courage. He drew his eyes up to her face again, not yet sure where his tongue would take him, but he lent his heart the opportunity to speak as so rarely he had throughout his life. Now was not the time to conceal it.

"From the start, you were an inferno. Going out quietly was never an option for one who blazes quite as bright as you. You always tried to separate yourself from this. From me, from all of us. To protect our hearts, knowing you wouldn't be long for this world. I see that now. There was always a selflessness to your actions, and maybe a selfishness in your desire to avoid painful goodbyes. And I understand that you want me to accept the things that can't be changed, and leave to pursue my dream. I would have liked that too, once upon a time. I would have taken you up on the exit you presented and relented to your logic. But Lysithea, I never wanted a throne. I never asked for the responsibility to guide a nation. I see now what I couldn't years ago. It doesn't have to be up to me to change the world. There are so many intelligent and capable leaders who are working to guide Fodlan to a better world, and I believe their influence can reach Almyra too. I had always assumed my impossible dream was one I had to chase in order to see it come alive, and- there's a good chance we wouldn't be as far as we are if not for my efforts. But my path is not up to others to determine. It never has been, nor will it ever be. I have always followed my heart, and in doing so I have found ways to achieve the impossible. I know this is a foolish reason to relinquish my life's work, but I cannot deny my heart. There is only one path for me that remains, and whether I succeed or fail is irrelevant. You are my future, Lysithea von Ordelia. For better or for worse. Turn me away and call me a fool for all that I am, but you should know me well enough to understand my relentless drive by now."

He felt incredibly silly, his heart naked and vulnerable before her, no longer concealed by a teasing façade, and her parents near to catch his every word. Would they disapprove of his negligence? Or would they admire his loyalty to their daughter?

There was a part of him that wanted their approval in this, just as he wanted to win Lysithea's favor in his mission. But he knew it ultimately would bear little consequence on what path he took. His mind had been made up. If he could earn Lysithea's heart and call her his-- his heart would be satisfied. But he would never find repose if he didn't at least try to aid her. His mind reeled with frustration at the lack of time he had been left with. He knew it wasn't possible, but he still toyed with the idea of having more time, and how this moment would have looked if he had already been given the opportunity to help. But, was that how it would have played out? His priorities when he was younger had been different. His dream had been intrinsically linked with the fate of his home and its people. Perhaps he never would have allowed himself to fall for her, knowing that pursuing her would mean to let go of everything else. Saying goodbye was always difficult, but nothing held a flame to saying farewell to someone you loved. He had always kept his circle small, both for a lack of trust in humanity, and the comprising pull of loyalty. That was what this was too. She had swayed his loyalty, and in the moment-- he could not be bothered to care what that meant.

This was where their views clashed, and he could see there was no hope of either side backing down. She would not justify or condone his actions, and he would not relent to her pleas. Determinedly, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering.

"I'll leave, unless you have anything else you need to tell me. I know what I have to do."


End file.
